Aberration
by Racquet
Summary: Jack never made it home for Ma's funeral. ab·er·ra·tion n 1: prevents light from being brought into sharp focus, disenabling the formation of a clear image.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello everybody, this is my new story and I hope you all enjoy. Reviews would be great. Not sure if this is going to stay a oneshot or continue with more chapters. Let me know what you think.

Obligatory Disclaimer: Aaron is mine, the rest are not.

Summary: Jack never made it home for Ma's funeral.

Anywho, on to the show.

Exposure, Chapter 1:

* * *

He could feel the music penetrating his pores and diffuse into a million particles, radiating throughout his entire being. It decimated his defenses as his body began to sway to the beat and his fingers pulled knowingly at the taunt fibers. Stepping confidently up to the microphone he parted his lips and allowed the swelling notes to purge from his throat and engulf the mic, face splitting into a grin as the crowd bellowed and cheered.

He lived for this feeling. The freedom, the bliss, the ability to just _be_. To be surrounded by people and to feel alone at the same time. To lose himself completely in the lyrics and to have every sense enhanced to the point of feeling nothing and everything and loving every minute of it. He would never get enough of being on stage, he was addicted, the lyrics were his drug of choice, the audience his high. He was completely and helplessly addicted.

Drinking in the energy pouring from the crowd he was unprepared for the sudden hand on his shoulder, startled he jumped, the sound cutting off quickly from the microphone. He could faintly hear the booing of the angered crowd as he turned towards the body next to him, it was Aaron, his roommate and best friend. The solemn look on Aaron's face and the way his eyes held fast chilled him to the bone.

"What's wrong?," he questioned, voice wavering.

"Jack, it's Evelyn."

He couldn't breathe, couldn't think through the sudden thickness in the air. His mind shifted to autopilot as Aaron led him quickly from the stage, the angered crowd a mere afterthought now as the haze in his mind grew, masking the confusion that had held it only moments ago. He was numb to the cold air that hit him as he was led to Aaron's car, numb to the gentle embrace and the whispered condolences before he slid into the seat, numb to the heat that wafted from the vents as they sped through the streets. He sat listlessly, attempting to decipher between Aaron's explanations and his own reeling assumptions, catching only bits and pieces of each.

"…Jerry called…grocery store…no leads, but…Evelyn wanted…Detective Green…Bobby tried…funeral tomorrow…reach Angel…red-eye tickets…couldn't find…make it…okay now…late…"

Jack squeezed his eyelids shut, the words not making any sense. He was getting a headache. Rubbing his temples he tried to dull the throbbing, tried to understand the words. Too many words. He wanted Evelyn. He wanted to go to sleep. He heard the familiar dinging, could feel the red lights penetrate the lids before he even opened his eyes. He felt the anger radiating from the drivers side as he watched the striped poles began to descend.

"I wanna go home," he moaned painfully as the words righted themselves.

The strength of the pull threw him forcefully back against the seat. Aaron's slew of curses were drowned by the tortuous scream, sickening crunch fade into black.

* * *

A/N: Please review and let me know if you'd like me to continue.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I first want to thank all of you who reviewed, thank you so much, reviews are what keep me writing!

I'd also like to apologize for the short length of these first two chapters, I am in the middle of studying for finals so my writing time is very limited, so it's either short work or no work, sorry. The second half of this chapter is Jack related, and this is a Jackcentric story, but I'm not done with it yet and I wanted to get this part posted...

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Abberation, Chapter 2**

* * *

The motorcade crept slowly down the street towards the cemetery, Jerry's SUV following the archaic hearse, following their mother. The silence in the car was deafening, tears had been shed in the privacy of bedrooms, bathrooms and bars, but not one of them would mention the red-rimmed eyes they all carried for the memory of their mother. Bobby gazed out the passenger window, taking in the grim ambiance of the Detroit streets, the dilapidated buildings and the homeless huddled in doorways causing a burning rage to swell in the pit of his stomach as they passed. He'd grown up in these streets, he'd learned to take their punches in stride, to survive and overcome their hostility, but they had taken his mother and for that he could not forgive them, he would not. Jamming his fingers into his temples he tried to quell the oncoming migraine, letting out a heavy sigh when it provided no relief. This was not how he wanted to spend his day, he'd rather get drunk beyond functioning and pass out for a few days, but the chances of that happening were slim and none.

Angel's gaze broke as Jerry pulled up alongside the crumbling curb, they were here. Dragging himself from the vehicle he joined Bobby and Jerry as they took their places behind Ma's casket, waiting to accompany her to her final resting place. He didn't understand any of this, any of it at all. The idea that someone was capable of hurting Evelyn was beyond his comprehension, she had done nothing but help people in all her years in Detroit, and this was how the city repaid her, with her death. He shuffled along anxiously, the precession was moving much too slow for his liking and the sheer amount of people who had turned out made him nervous. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be within a hundred miles of this cemetery, he wanted to be back at base, with structure and discipline, where everything made sense and control and thinking was overrated and out of his control. He wanted to go back, to just a few days ago. He wanted to be able to protect her, to be with her in that corner store, to give those murdering bastards what they really deserved, to wrap his hands around their throats and inflict the pain on them that they were now causing him. But he knew, as he followed that gleaming oak casket, he knew that it was too late for that, too late to protect the woman who had protected him for years.

Jerry silently took his place at the side of Ma's casket, bowing his head as the minister spoke of the greatness of Evelyn and the sorrow that had brought them together on this dark day. He toned out the words after that, preferring to remember Evelyn through his own experiences rather then those of this man he hardly knew, to pay tribute to the woman who had saved his life even though he had been unable to save hers. Drawing a large, quaking breath into his resistant lungs, Jeremiah recalled the way Evelyn would scold him for being late to their weekly dinner, the way she would play hide and seek with his daughters and let them stay up late and eat too much chocolate, only to defend herself with a smiling, "They're my only granddaughters, it's my job." He would miss that most of all, her radiant smile and the way she had an answer to everything whether it was what he wanted to hear or not. Smiling softly at the thought of her laugh, Jerry gently placed a rose on top of the slick casket before turning towards the car, hoping the tears that trailed down his face would be mistaken for the rain that fell softly around them.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Once again I'd like to thank all of you who reviewed this story, I am truly sorry that I cannot respond to each of you individually, but my time is very limited. I'd also like you all to know that I value constructive criticism just as much (if not more) then positive reviews. This chapter is once again short (sorry) so please bear with me.

Also, **I am sorry for the confusion about what happened to Jack**, it will all be explained in the next chapter. I was more vague than I should have been in the first chapter, and it wasn't clear to some readers what had happened.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Aberration, Chapter 3...**

* * *

Jerry pulled away from the curb, pretending he couldn't feel the rising tensions in the car and ignoring the sick feeling that was worming it's way into his gut. Stealing a quick glance at Bobby he hoped that his brother would be able to let it slide for today, that just this once he would keep his anger to himself until they were all in a better state of mind to deal with it. But as soon as Bobby opened his mouth, Jerry knew he had asked for too much.

"Where the hell was he?" the words fell from Bobby's lips like venom. Jerry clenched his jaw, the muscles visibly tightening as he weighed his options, trying to decide whether he would defend his little brother's actions against Bobby, or whether he would join the fray, letting the absence of their younger brother anger him enough to mask the pain of losing Ma. Taking a deep breath he settled for neutral ground.

"I don't know." He replied, voice even. And that was the truth, he had talked to Aaron the night before, had even booked red-eye tickets so that Jack would be there in time for the funeral even if he didn't come to the house before hand, a move for which Jerry couldn't blame him, not after what had happened.

"I thought you said he would be here."

"I did…I thought he would be."

"Little prick." Bobby's voice was low, menacing. "After everything Ma did for him, he should have been there today dammit! He needs to quit this damn whining and get his ass straightened out."

Jerry audibly scoffed at the response and turned towards Bobby, angered at his brother's lack of compassion.

"You're kidding right? After the shit you pulled with him, did you really expect him to come running back here to greet you with open arms?"

"Guys…" Angel spoke for the first time since they had left the cemetery, tired of the bickering just minutes after they had buried the woman who had dedicated her life to them. "Can't you both just shut the hell up and let this alone. Do you think Ma would want you guys fighting like this today?"

Silence descended on the car, both Jerry and Bobby sobered by the mention of their mother, embarrassed at their childish behavior that Ma would have put a stop to with a few fierce words. Bobby turned back towards the window, mulling over Jerry's words. He had, in fact, expected Jack to come crawling back home, asking for a truce after their last round. The way he saw it he had done nothing wrong, he had merely voiced his opinion and called it as he saw it, and last time he'd checked that hadn't been a crime. But it'd been months now, eight to be exact, since he had seen or talked to Jack, though he'd been given updates from Ma, Jerry and Angel on occasion. He knew that Jack was in New York now, still making a racket on that guitar he was so attached to, and from what he'd gathered the little shit was making quite the name for himself up there.

Bobby climbed out of the car as Jerry dropped them off at the house before heading home. Angel didn't even head toward the house, he'd be headed back to base in less than I week and Bobby figured he would be headed straight to Sophi's house to relieve some of his frustrations before he left again. Bobby didn't have plans to stay at the house either, staying here without Ma was just…weird. Climbing the stairs to his old bedroom he reflected on the last time he'd been home, Ma had made him a nice supper and spent the meal trying to persuade him to give Jack a call, to apologize for his actions. But he hadn't, maintaining that he had done nothing wrong and that the ball was in Jack's court now, he wasn't budging. Stripping out of the stuffy suit and pulling on a pair of jeans and a turtleneck, Bobby flicked off the light and headed back out the door, stopping only to grab some cash from Ma's hidden stash, knowing he would need most of it to reach the level of drunkenness that he had planned.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading! Next chapter should be up by this weekend :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I have no explanation for the belatedness of this chapter other than my computer is the biggest POS ever made. My apologies.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** None of this is mine (except for Chris) yadda, yadda, yadda...

**Aberration Chapter 4...**

* * *

Setting the empty glass back on the bar, Bobby turned to watch as the bartender worked the smoke and the sounds of the dark bar into the old oak with his cloth. He wanted another drink. Hell, he wanted 20 more drinks, or at lease enough to knock him out cold until it was time for him to hit the road again. The bartender had warned him during his last drink that they would have to cut him off soon, but that wasn't anything new to Bobby, he'd just move on to the next bar, rinse and repeat until thoroughly smashed.

Spinning the small glass between his fingers Bobby tried to remember what it had been like just a few years ago, right before he'd left to play hockey full-time, but the effects of the booze kept much of his memories foggy, though he could remember the day Ma brought Jerry home, how he had refused to acknowledge the younger kid, afraid that Ma would pass him on when the new kid turned out to be smarter and more well behaved, the newest version of a dying game. And he could remember the first time he'd killed a man, the day Angel had carried a battered and bloody Jack through the door. He could remember how Jack had refused to give up the name and look in Jack's eye when they saw the man on the street, laughing and grinning with his friends, how he had smirked when he saw Jack. He had never remembered attacking the man, just seeing the body and the way Jack's eyes stuck to the ground, the walls, anywhere but on Bobby for months after that night. He could remember the way Ma used to scold him for being too rough with his brothers and never allowing them to win when they played hockey.

He could feel the prickling behind his eyes at the thought of his Ma as he threw the wad of folded bills onto the counter and pushed his stool back. He'd intentionally let his car at the house, knowing he'd be too shit-faced to drive during the night and by this point he had little money left for a cab if he planned on having any to fill up his tank to get out of town. Stepping out of the damp, smoky bar he was hit by a dark gust of cool air, drying his eyes once more.

* * *

The incessant ringing of the phone broke through his alcohol induced slumber, piercing his temples like a gunning jackhammer and striking his brain. He was, most definitely, hung over. Groaning he shifted just enough to where he could run his fingers against the frigid wood floor, splaying them to reach something, anything, to shut that sound up. Brushing up against a solid block he grasped for it violently, pitching it in the direction of the offending announcement. Silence.

* * *

"Bobby!"

His eyes cracked open, head still pounding, world spinning. He shouldn't have drank that much, he had to puke. The distinctive clamor of boots on the stairs drew him further from sleep. Was there someone in his house? The question was answered a second later by the wiry silhouette that brushed through his doorway, flipping up the switch by the door.

"Bobby get up."

Growling he arching away from the merciless assault on his eyes, shoving his face into the cool pillow.

"What the hell Jerry?!"

His only response came in the form of a intense grip on his forearm and the choked syllables of his name, not unlike the voice from which he had received the worst news of his life mere days earlier. An instantaneous sense of dread wrapped its bony fingers around his heart, squeezing painfully as he slowly turned towards his brother, worried further by the shining eyes that stared vacantly back at him. Neither spoke for what seemed to each an eternity, the yielding and receiving of vital information delayed by want of admittance from the other. Thoughts of Angel lying in a dirty ally, done in by a stray bullet as he walked to Sophie's house invaded his brain, visions of Camille and the girls unmoving as they lay in whitewashed hospital beds...

"Bobby. Bobby, it's Jack...his car was hit by a train..."

The words hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, driving the oxygen from his lungs he leaned foreword, throbbing head resting in quaking hands as he gasped for breath, desperately trying to pull fresh air into his body. Throat unwilling to cooperate he was drowning, expiring as he forced the words coming from Jerry to sort themselves in his brain.

"Chris said he was trying to make the red-eye flight I booked...tried to beat the train," muffled choking from the doorway delaying the verdict. "He's in New York. Bobby, they don't think he's going to make it."

His gut clenched violently as he was thrust foreword, kept from falling only by the bracing of hands on knees as vomit climbed the burning walls of his throat and surged from his body.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: To compensate the belatedness of this chapter I made it extra, extra long. Hope it counts for something.

**Obligatory Disclaimer: None of it is mine... except for Dr. Phillips (who, if this were a movie, would be played by James McAvoy).**

I do believe I've made you all wait long enough, so here it is...

**Aberration, Chapter 5:**

Oh, and my damn page break isn't working, so instead you will see this: -- -- --

-- -- --

He wasn't sure how he had been allowed to board the plane in his current condition. He had glanced in the mirror just minutes ago after he had high-tailed it to the cramped restroom to lose his stomach once again, and he looked as though he had just been hit by a train. He baulked at the thought, realizing what he had just said, the irony of it. He found it hard to believe that Jack looked anything like him at the moment, he knew if he didn't stop thinking about Jack he'd be making another sacrifice to the porcelain gods soon. Leaning back against the seat Bobby thought over the last few hours, they seemed to have moved so fast, too fast for him to keep straight.

-- -- --

Jerry and Bobby had sat in the dark living room, waiting for Angel to return from his late night escapades so that they could break the news to him. Neither man spoke as they waited, the space between them thick and neither wanting to break down first, neither wanting to seem weak. Bobby so badly wanting to know details, to question his brother ruthlessly, to make him replay the whole conversation, to know how he had found out and how he could know for sure that it was in fact their brother who was sitting in a hospital bed while they all sat hundreds of miles away, safe. He wouldn't ask though, not trusting his raw throat to carry his voice. He could still taste the acrid bitterness of the alcohol in his mouth from when it had reappeared after learning of his brother's current state. But the fall was unavoidable and Bobby looked away as the rugged sobs of his brother broke through his thought process, he could hear the other man trying to stifle the sounds. Rising he left his brother alone to fight emotions that had welled up until they had broken like a dam trying to hold back too much water. In the kitchen he pulled open the refrigerator door, grabbing a carton of orange juice and taking a long pull, not because he was actually thirsty but because it allowed for a sense of normality in contrast to his thundering insides. It was still unreal for him, there was no way something like this could follow so closely on the heels of Ma's death. It was too cruel, too unimaginable. Carrying the half empty carton with him Bobby moved back towards the living room, replacing himself on the couch. A quick glance towards Jerry let him know that his brother had managed to compose himself, he sat stone-faced, staring into darkness. The silence resumed.

Eventually Angel had made his way home, sneaking in through the back door, undoubtedly in an attempt not to wake Bobby. Hah! Fat chance now! As he tiptoed quietly from the hall and turned to climb the stairs Jerry made their presence known, taking charge once more.

"Angel" his voice was firm on the surface, only Bobby caught the slight waver.

Angel nearly jumped out of his skin, totally unprepared for the voice in the darkness. On a normal day the sight of their Marine brother clutching his chest and breathing hard would have elicited merciless teasing and laughter. Not today.

"Jesus fucking christ! You bastards! Scared the piss outta me." the absence of any movement or response on the part of his brother's had not gone unnoticed, he paused, words slower now. "Why the hell are you guys sitting in the damn dark?"

"Angel. I think you should sit down." Bobby's words were firm, steady.

Walking silently Angel made his way to the nightstand, switching on the lamp, neither brother moving. Bobby saw a shadow pass over his brother's eyes as the young man stared at Jerry, undoubtedly concentrating on the puffy appearance of his red rimmed eyes.

"What's wrong?" he turned to Bobby, looking for an answer.

"Sit down Angel." he stared at his brother, tilting his head easily towards the vacant couch.

"Tell me what the fuck is wrong." panic seeping into his voice.

"Sit down. And then I will tell you." his words had turned to commands as the two brothers fought for a semblance of control in their uncertain situation. Angel, too worried and uncertain of the situation to push further, backed down first, moving to sit on the worn couch. Remaining silent he waited for his brothers to make the first move.

"I got a call earlier tonight." Bobby was relieved when Jerry took control again, the passage effortless. "It was Chris. There was an accident... and Jack is in the hospital. Ang, it doesn't look good."

Angel sat on the couch, hands on his knees, unmoving.

"Wh... how?"

"I, uh, I bought Jack a flight back, so he could be at Ma's funeral." he spoke slowly, keeping his voice in check. "He was doing a show. Aaron got him but they were running late, as far as they can tell they tried to beat a train to make it on time. They were hit."

Silence descended upon the room again. Bobby, eyes on Angel, watched as his brother sat frozen in place, mouth slightly agape. He watched as the younger man leaned forward, hands coming up to cover his shocked face.

"What happens now?" neither had expected Angel to be the one to break the silence.

"Guys, I... I can't go." the shocked look on the faces of his brothers caused Jerry to continue quickly. "I have meetings, and the girls. I just... I can't just leave."

"You serious Jerry?" Bobby's words were low, angry. "You can't go see him cause you have 'meetings.'"

Bobby shook his head, scoffing.

"Look Bobby, you think I don't wanna go?" he asked, aghast.

"What if it was Camille or one of the girls? Would you stay cause you had some damn 'meetings?'" he snarled.

"That's not fair Bobby." his voice breaking.

"Nothing about this is fair!" tensions and voices raising.

"Just tell him-"

"Wait, stop! You think _I'm_ going to New York?" he shook his head, incredulously. "No. No way."

Jerry paused, shocked, before continuing. "Oh, I see how it is, I can't stay here with my family, but you can just back out cause you feel like it? That's bullshit."

"Jack _is_ your family!" Bobby's face took on a shade of red as his voice became strained with emotion. "And do you really think he's going to want to see _me_ there?"

"You _know_ what I meant."

"Whatever man. Whatever." Bobby leaned back, seemingly done with the conversation.

"What about you Ang. You think you can get anymore time away from base?" Jerry's words had returned to their usual calm as he addressed his younger brother.

"I don't know man. I can make some calls tomorrow, but I don't have clearance to go to New York right now." he spoke softly, running a hand over his well groomed scalp.

"Fuck it. Whatever, I'll go." Bobby interrupted his brothers, clearly unhappy about his own consension. "Better me then nobody right?"

-- -- --

So here he was, riding on a plane to see a brother who might not be alive when he got there and who probably didn't want him there anyway. What could be better?

* * *

He hated hospitals. Hated them more than almost anything. The whitewashed walls, overwhelming sterility of everything, the practiced sympathy of doctors and nurses, he hated all of it. And he hated these damn elevators, being packed into a closed cube with strangers and sick people. Who knew what infectious diseases could be encased in the small space with him. He made a mental note to take the stairs on the way down, no matter how many floors that may be. Keeping his eyes on the number as they lit up above the door he willed the number of his destination to come faster. When the 7 lit up on the sliding number scale Bobby let a breath out that he hadn't been aware he was holding.

This was it. The moment of truth, he would be seeing Jack for the first time in many, many months. More time than he wanted to think about. Even though he knew his little brother was in no state to even acknowledge his presence, the thought still caused something the turn in his stomach. Anxiety? Anticipation? Guilt? He wasn't sure. He signed in at the desk on the floor, registering the sign above the desk as he approached. _Intensive Care Unit_ it read, words that didn't allow for any piece of mind for the older man. The receptionist, a young brunette with a cheesy smile plastered on her face politely asked him to take a seat, Jack's doctor would be out to see him as soon as possible.

As soon as possible his ass. He waited for over 40 minutes for the damn man in a white coat and was just minutes away from losing his temper when the man finally sauntered down the hall and the receptionist pointed him in Bobby's direction. He rose at the young man's approach, unhappy with the man's youth. How could this man possibly know enough and have enough experience to know what's best for his baby brother?

"Hi, I'm Dr. Phillips." the young man extended his hand with a smile. "Jack's doctor."

Bobby grudgingly accepted the invitation, firmly grasping the man's hand. "Bobby, Jack's brother."

"Why don't we have a seat Bobby" the man said, motioning to the chairs where Bobby had just risen from. Both sat. "Your brother is a very, very lucky young man. When the train hit the vehicle the impact was, for the most part, isolated to the front left portion of the car. The driver of the car was killed on impact. Your brother was wearing his seatbelt, which probably saved his life. In addition to that, the train had not reached full speed yet, having left a station not long before. You have those few graces to thank for your brother being here now." He paused to allow the information to be absorbed by Bobby before continuing. "Now, Jack _did_ sustain some very serious injuries. The most serious being when his head hit the car window as he was thrown sideways upon impact. The impact caused a sever increase in inter-cranial pressure and Jack's brain began to swell. In order to reduce the effects of the swelling we put Jack into a barbiturate-induced coma, a temporary coma. This causes the blood vessels of the brain to take up less space within the skull and allows the brain to have more room in which to swell, slightly reducing the chance of brain damage. In addition to the brain injury two of Jack's ribs separated from his skeleton upon impact and one of them punctured his right lung. When he was brought in we preformed surgery, re-attached the ribs and repaired his lung. Jack also suffered a fracture in his right humerus, the upper arm bone, and shattered three fingers on his right hand. His right hip was dislocated as well, but was relocated as soon as he became stable."

Dr. Phillips stopped talking then. Allowing that the other man had probably just heard all that he could absorb at one time. He waited for Bobby to break the silence. Bobby, who had sat through the talk silently, mind reeling, eventually found his voice.

"How is he now? Will he be okay?" his worried eyes came to rest on the doctor.

"Right now he is still in a coma," the doctor began slowly. "We'll wait to bring him out until the swelling goes down enough for the blood vessels to be able to fill without causing further injury. However waiting too long could cause damage of it's own. It's a balancing act, and we aren't sure when it will level out. His overall condition is stable right now, but we are far from being out of the woods."

Bobby nodded. "Can I see him?"

It was the doctor's turn to nod. "Follow me."

Bobby followed the man down the long, white hallway. His heart was hammering in his chest, worried about what he would see, what Jack would look like. Dr. Phillips stopped outside a doorway, turning to Bobby. "He looks pretty banged up right now, lots of bruises and swelling. There's a lot of wires and machines, they may look ugly, but they're helping him. He won't be able to acknowledge you, though he may be able to hear you on some level. I'll be back to check on him in a little bit. We can talk more then." He smiled then and Bobby thanked him before turning to walk in the room.

The doctor was right, Jack looked horrible, almost unrecognizable to Bobby. His face was a mess of dark purple, sickened green, and dull yellow. One big, angry bruise staring back at him. Moving towards the bed Bobby barely acknowledged the various beeping and wires, only working enough to avoid them as he approached the bed, grabbing a vacant chair on his way. Arms crossed he sat and stared at the young man lying motionless in the bed, unable to do anything but curse the unfairness of the whole situation.

Sighing heavily he leaned forward in the chair, resting elbows on knees and his chin on clasped hands. His voice was quiet, tired.

"You really got yourself in deep here, huh Princess?"

-- -- --

R&R, it's what Jesus would do...


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm exhausted but stayed up late to finish this chapter. Hope it's up to par. And one more huge thank you to all my reviewers, they really do make me write faster as I feel bad keeping them waiting when they take the time to write to me.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** Only Chris and Dr. Phillips are mine.

**A note on OCs:** There are a few OCs in this story, but their only purpose is to advance the plot and make the story work. None are going to be permanent fixtures in the fic. I dispose of them when they have served their purpose, no worries...it's relatively humane.

Oh lookie! Another long chapter...

**Aberration, Chapter 6**

-- -- --

He didn't know how long he had sat in that uncomfortable plastic chair before Chris had shown up, shooting a cold glance at Bobby before walking to stand by Jack. Unlike Bobby, Chris didn't seem scared of the wires and the noisy machines that surrounded Jack, moving deftly around them to take Jack's hand in his own and leaning down to whisper in Jack's ear, quiet enough so that Bobby couldn't hear. Eventually he turned back to Bobby, asking him if he needed a place to stay, voice cool. Bobby had accepted, too drained to react to the edge in Chris's voice. And that's how he had ended up here, laying on Jack's bed in the dark, thinking about his little brother laying battered on that damn white hospital bed. Not since Jack had first come to the Mercer house, a frightened boy of only eleven, had Bobby felt this helpless. He remembered the first time he had seen Jack's scars, both the mental and the physical.

-- -- --

_He'd been here 17 days, clinging to the tattered backpack like he would disappear if he loosened his grip, eyes wide over hollowed cheeks. And in all of those seventeen days, Jack had yet to utter a word. During the daylight anyways. The night offered a new opportunity that he rarely left unused. Bobby could tell the regular episodes were taking a toll on everyone. Evelyn was less tolerant of the antics from Bobby and his brothers, her sharp words reprimanding their every misstep. Not that he could blame her. She was, after all, the person was forced to venture forth through the door across the hallway, staying up after the rest of the house had fallen back to the regularly scheduled broadcast. _

_Bobby and Angel dealt with the frustrating routine through hockey, and though the increase in their already heightened aggression made them unwelcome participants, there was just something about body checking someone as hard as possible that allowed the tension to just melt away. And Jerry had taken to sleeping at Camille's house, an escape from the shrieks and cries that kept the household up for hours and had usually tolerant neighbors complaining of the noise._

_During the day, as everyone else pulled themselves wearily through their routines, Jack would follow Evelyn like a lost puppy, never more than two feet from her in any direction. Shooting fleeting glances at the brothers he was always on high alert, eyes quick to lower if someone returned his gaze. During the time Evelyn spent at work Jack would lock himself in his small room, refusing to respond to any advances from brothers inquiring about lunch or a trip to the store or a number of any possible requests. He refused to shower in the morning like the rest of the family, preferring to slip out of his room in the early hours of the morning and quickly lock himself in the bathroom, rushing back to the safety of his bedroom as soon as he was finished._

_Bobby had eventually stopped trying to make any connection with the boy, tired of being met with only a mop of scruffy brown hair as his eyes remained trained on the floor. All three of the brothers had been warned by Evelyn not to try and touch Jack, giving no explanation as to why, simply accepting the words of their mother. Early in his first week at the Mercer house Evelyn had taken Jack shopping for new clothes, Bobby had tagged along. His attempt to help Jack cross the street, reaching for the boy's hand, had caused a fit of shrieks and cries accompanied with a strict warning from Evelyn, and he had stopped trying to break through the barriers. Leaving them to come down in their own time._

_Then Evelyn had gotten a call, a plea for her to pick up another runaway and take her to a foster home, a regular occurrence in the Mercer house, though the addition of Jack had complicated the usual procedure. Evelyn had tried to pass the request on to someone else, Bobby would give her that, but neither were surprised when the call for additional help came back negative. Some days it seemed as though Evelyn was the only person in Detroit willing to sacrifice for others, even if it came in the form of her own family. _

_Leaving Bobby with a quick reassurance that it was past the time for Jack's usual episode and a promise that she would be back as soon as she could, Evelyn rushed into the cold Michigan night. He leaned back against the old couch, throwing his sock covered feet onto the coffee table with a groan. At least he would be able to catch up on some of the hockey that he had been deprived of over the last few weeks as he had used every spare moment trying to catch up on sleep. Jack hadn't had an episode for two nights, a record so far, and one that Bobby sincerely hoped would continue for at least however long it took Evelyn to make it back._

_But as the first shrill scream echoed down the stairs and ricocheted around the room, Bobby knew he just wasn't that lucky of a person. And that he would be in for a very long, very loud night. Pushing himself off of the battered couch Bobby trudged up the creaky stairs, he was in no hurry, he didn't even know what he was supposed to do. This was going to suck._

_Retrieving the key from Evelyn's dresser Bobby slipped it into the knob on Jack's door, guiding the door slowly open against the incessant cries. The only light in the room came from a nightlight at the foot of Jack's bed, but it cast off enough light for Bobby to see the young boy. He was tossing violently against the sheets that had bound themselves around his legs and torso through the throes of his nightmare, head thrown back and mouth wide open, grimace spread across his you features. _

_Bobby's heart was pounding, though he wasn't quite sure why, as he moved towards the flailing kid. Leaning over the small bed he grasped Jack by the shoulders, grimacing at the solid layer of sweat covering the boy's shoulders as he gently shook him._

_"Jack!" he whispered harshly before increasing the volume as Jack's cries completely drowned him out. "Jack, wake up!"_

_No response or acknowledgement, just continued fighting against invisible demons. Bobby shook harder, bringing one hand up to gently slap his cheek. Nothing. He was tired of this. Hell, he was just plain old tired, and if Jack would just shut the fuck up maybe he could do something about that and go to bed. He had never been known for his patience. Releasing Jack's shoulder's he moved his hands to cup Jack's face, bringing his own face close._

_"Hey! Wake up!" his voice thundered through the small room. Jack's lids jolted open, eyes widening at the man above him, holding his face. Bobby was taken aback by the eyes, pure cold fear radiating from them, he moved to push off the bed and give the boy space, but Jack was quicker. Before Bobby's hands even hit the mattress Jack had shifted position and used the momentum of the shift to drive his thin leg towards Bobby, finding purchase in Bobby's groin. He couldn't breathe, doubling over as hot white sparks shot through his vision. The pain was unbearable and he was barely aware of Jack trying to squeeze past him to make a run at the door. His first thought was to just let him go, let him run because he sure as fuck was in a world of pain and didn't give two shits about what happened to the little pecker at the moment. The thought of Evelyn coming home and finding Jack gone, however, was enough to make him reach out and grab the hem of the thin undershirt that Jack was wearing as he darted past. _

_"Oh no you don't!" he growled as Jack spun and backed out of the garment, spinning back to find Bobby blocking the doorway. "Ma would kill.." and the words dropped from his lips as he took in the sight before him. Jack, naked from the waist up, wrapped his arms tightly around himself in an attempt to cover up when he realized what Bobby was staring at. But his thin arms couldn't block the scars from Bobby's view, even in this dim light. The largest wound, still in the puffy stages of healing, ran in a jagged line from his left collarbone to just above his right hip bone. Smaller scars in various stages of healing littered his chest and sides._

_"Holy fuck Jack" Bobby's voice was low, filled with shock as he took a step towards the frightened boy. Spinning Jack bolted towards the dresser that rested in the corner, reaching around it and pulling out a wooden bat, stopping Bobby in his tracks and making him curse Angel for going out with Sofi tonight, leaving him alone with this...demon. They stared each other down, Jack's chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes wide. With a guttural scream Jack sprinted towards the older man, pulling the bat back as if readying for the pitch, swinging it forward as he came near. Thankfully Bobby was ready and grabbed the swinging bat midair with his left hand while grasping the boy's thin wrist with his right, spinning him around and pulling the boy to his chest. Bobby had seen Evelyn hold angry children like this before, and he really had no clue what else he could do, he's never been _attacked_ by a kid before and Ma would kill him if he was hurt. _

_If anything, being held immobile with his arms crossed over his chest made Jack even more frenzied. Bobby held tight against the wriggling and bucking, swearing like a sailor when Jack threw back his head back, the top of it connecting with Bobby's chin and causing him to bite his tongue._

_"God Damnit Jack!" he hissed around the blood filling his mouth. "Would you just fucking stop moving!"_

_And eventually, after another 15 or so minutes of struggling, Jack did relax, physically exhausted._

_"See Jack?" Bobby was breathing hard, the struggle having tired them both. "I'm not going to hurt you. If I was going to hurt you I sure as hell would have done it by now. Damn kid, you just don't know when to quit, do you?"_

_The sound of the door knob turning and the front door creaking open caused Jack to rekindle his fight before Bobby could let him go, sinking his teeth deep into Bobby's forearm, causing him to release his hold on Jack to cradle the hurt limb, a slew of vulgar curses following the boy darting down the hall._

_Leaning back against the wall Bobby couldn't help but grin, he'd just had the crap beat out of him by an eleven year old. But damn, that kid was sure as fuck a Mercer._

_-- -- --_

With a small smile Bobby ran his hand over the scar on his arm, swallowing the lump in his throat before drifting off to a fitful sleep.

-- -- --

He grimaced against the piercing light shining through the window, rolling away from the offending light and wondering why there was music blasting through the walls of the small bedroom. Taking a few seconds to orient himself, Bobby pushed himself off the bed and stumbled to the bathroom, relieving himself with a sigh. Heading back to Jack's room he dressed quickly and got around, hoping to catch Jack's doctor for a chat before seeing his brother, he'd catch breakfast later. Passing the living room as he headed towards the door, a voice stopped him.

"Mind if I ask you a question?" Chris's voice was even, but Bobby could see the tears welling in his eyes.

"Yeah, sure."

"You think he's gonna make it?"

"I don't know, the doctor seems to think he has a pretty good chance..."

"Yeah, I just. Aaron's gone...I just. I don't wanna lose Jack too, ya know?"

Bobby wasn't sure what to say to that, so he simply nodded, starting towards the door again. He managed to open it before the voice stopped him again.

"Hey Bobby?"

"Yeah?" he was getting impatient, anxious to get to the hospital.

"What happened last time Jack went home? When he left he was fine. Happy." A pause hung in the air. "But when he came back...something was just different. He wasn't the same. I just thought..."

His words were cut off by the door slamming violently.

-- -- --

He stood impatiently, watching the numbers light up across the scale as the people around him chatted in quiet voices and whispered harshly into cell phones. Relieved when the doors finally opened to Jack's floor with a shrill bing, he stepped away from the jabbering people and turned down the hall towards Jack's room, taking a sip of the hot brown sludge he'd picked up on the way in. Turning down another short hallway, Bobby stopped in his tracks.

There were people, a lot of people. A lot of people in scrubs, and they were moving, frantically, in and out of a room at the end of the hallway. His stomach dropped as he resumed his pace, walking quickly but collectedly, trying to calm himself. It wasn't Jack's room, there were a lot of rooms down this way and Jack was stable yesterday, it just wasn't Jack, no way. But as he came closer, passing doors on his way, his words failed to convince him and he broke into a swift jog.

And it was. It was Jack's room. And the scrub clad people were still moving in and out. And it was Jack's room, _Jack_ was in that room. _His_ Jack! The cup slipped from his hand and he watched as it fell, as if in slow motion, as it landed and sprayed across the room, soaking into his jeans and pooling around his boots. He felt like his lungs had shriveled up as he worked to pull air into his lungs, raising his eyes back to the frantic people. He was close enough now to decipher the words that the people were shouting, and he almost wished he wasn't.

_He's coding!_

_Get me some paddles, now!_

_Charging, stand back!_

And as he moved closer, boots each weighing a hundred pounds, he could see Dr. Phillips holding the whirring paddles. Could see as he moved them in a slow arch towards the bed, and then he could see nothing but the green and blue scrubs that surrounded the bed, cutting off his view. He pushed forward against the people milling in the hallway, they didn't need to be here, that was _his_ fucking brother on that bed, _he_ needed to be there.

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't go in there." a nurse, pushing him back away from the crowd, away from Jack.

"But he's my brother..."

And he couldn't decide whether he was angry or scared as the nurse continued to push him away, a pity filled gaze meeting his as they both heard the call.

_Shocking! Clear the area!_

-- -- --

I think this may be considered me first cliffy.

Not sure how much I like how this chapter came together, I would really like some comments/constructive criticism about what you thought of it. Thanks!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Meh.**

**A/Nx2: The flashback is for Hawaiichick :)**

**Obligatory Disclaimer: blah blah blah Don't own it them. blah blah blah**

-- -- --

The trigger of the paddles as electric volts transferred from paddle to skin caused him to flinch. He held his eyes closed and for the first time in many, many years, Bobby Mercer prayed. He could feel the delicate grip of the nurse loosen and fade away as he bargained with a God he wasn't sure he even believed in anymore. He didn't have much to offer, but he assured that if only Jack could live, if only he could apologize for what he had done, he would give anything, any fucking thing. And if that wasn't enough well then fuck God, because what fucking kind of all loving God would take Jack. Jack who hadn't ever hurt a soul and who had faced so much shit already, and so close after Evelyn, well that God could just suck his dick if he thought he could just kill Jack. The call momentarily forced his attention back to the scene around him, to the ever moving people rushing around to do nothing.

_Recharging!_

And the inevitable chain.

_Shocking! Clear the area!_

The zap and the only sound left is that damn beeping, bated breathe throughout the room as all eyes rest on the sporadic heart monitor as the green line jumps irregularly across the screen. And falls flat.

_Doctor, are we recharging?_

_No, fuck it. Bag him, now!_

Bobby watched as the young doctor gracelessly climbed onto the sterile bed, straddling his patient easily and beginning the rhythmic motions that would become life or death. Dr. Phillips' new position further blocked Bobby's view of the small room. Panicked, he moved forward again, intent on being inside the room, closer to Jack. He shouldn't have to be alone, not now. His path was cut short, blocked by the same nurse from earlier. He ignored her, even as her grip resumed itself on his arm he continued to move forward, he would be with Jack now and she wasn't going to stop him.

"Sir, if you won't wait out here I'll be forced to call security and you will wait outside of the hospital. I know you want to be with your brother, but the doctors are doing everything they can right now."

He looked her in the eyes, challenging her.

"Then call 'em."

And he continued towards the door, eyes trained on the doctor's back, steps in tandem with the rigid movement of the compressions, he could hear the deep voice behind him, telling him to stop, that he wasn't allowed in the room. He gave brief thought to how quickly the security here responded as opposed to the hospitals at home as he continued on, ignoring their words. The thick hand that landed on the shoulder wasn't a surprise, but the moment for reasoning had passed and everyone here was obviously an idiot if they thought they could stop him, Bobby Mercer, from being with his brother if he wanted to. And he wanted to. He turned quickly, right arm cocked and ready to throw a punch. The punch never had time to land as the guard easily maneuvered Bobby's hands behind his back, pressing his fist up between shoulder blades, causing him to automatically bend forward and away from the pain.

The guard, however, had underestimated the degree to which Bobby wanted to be with Jack as well as his aversion to being manhandled. Reorienting himself to his new position Bobby twisted sharply to the right, into the pain, a move that came as a surprise to the man holding him and forced him to stumble back, opening a path for Bobby to wrench from his grip. He turned towards the room again, eyes focusing on Phillips, still on the bed, still working to revive his patient, oblivious to the commotion in the hallway as the guard regained his grip on Bobby, advising him to stop fighting. A suggestion he deftly ignored as the guard tried to resume the upper hand with a tight headlock on the resistant man as he called for backup. At least in this position he could see the room Bobby thought derisively as he continued to struggle.

When the extra pair of hands forced him to his knees, forearm still steady against his windpipe, he knew that this tactic had run its course and he raised his arms, surrendering to their will. Strong hands clenched his wrists, forcing them behind his back, the familiar clicking of metal alerting him to the handcuffs being applied. The arms loosened their grip gradually, their release causing Bobby to fall forward, gasping for breath as he turned his focus back to the door once again, unnerved by the sight.

He watched as Dr. Phillips lifted his head, carefully easing himself away from the figure on the bed and lowering his feet to the cold tiled floor. Bobby watched as he turned away from the bed as if in slow motion, head tilting slowly back as his hands raised, past his face, to rest on the light blue hat that resided there. The voices surrounding Bobby slowly came back as the blood rushed from his ears as the effects of the headlock wore off, the piercing moan from the flat machine reached him first, followed quickly by the deep voice of the security guard.

"Okay man, how about you don't give us any more trouble."

And he was being hauled to his feet, their strong grips grasping his arms painfully as they tried to turn him away from the Jack's room.

"No! No, just wait...hold on!" his voice was panicked as he dug his heels into the beige patterned floor, twisting violently back towards the room.

His eyes trained on Dr. Phillips, still standing next to the bed as a nurse called to him from the other side.

_Doc, we need to know what you want us to do._

His heart was clawing its way out of his body through his throat. He could feel it.

He could barely hear the words from the doctor over the wailing machine.

_Call it._

And the white hospital issue blanket covered the dead.

-- -- --

_He was so. fucking. bored._

_Did he have a sign across his forehead, "Babysitter?" In big fucking letters? It sure seemed like it, for the fourth day in a row now he was stuck watching Jack. Was it still considered watching Jack if he never actually _saw_ Jack? He wasn't sure, but one thing he was sure of, was that he was bored out of his mind. Daytime television was torturous, what kind of people watched this shit anyways? Hell, maybe he'd quit hockey and become a daytime TV star, all you had to do was have big muscles, cry, and make out with people. And why couldn't he leave the house anyway? It wasn't like Jack was going to come out of his room or let anybody come in for fuck's sake. _

_Frustrated, he hurled the remote across the living room, frowning as the battery cover split in connection with the floor, batteries ejecting and rolling across the wood before stopping against the base of Ma's hippy lamp. Fucking bored._

_With a dramatic sigh Bobby pushed himself off of the couch, heading for the kitchen. This had become too often his routine, clearing out the kitchen with nothing better to do. He'd weigh five hundred pounds if he kept this up, way too much food and not nearly enough exercise. Shit, he sounded like a damn girl, pretty soon he'd be asking Ma if his jersey made him look fat. He chuckled at the thought. But how the hell was he supposed to get out of the house and play some puck if he was stuck watching Jack every damn day? He wasn't even hungry. _

_This was ridiculous, he was going to end this right now. Determined, he slammed the refrigerator door and headed for the stairs. There was no way he would survive being cooped up any longer, he was going insane. Reaching the top of the stairs he strode purposefully to Jack's locked door, hammering on it._

_"Jack, open up."_

_"Why?" _

_The voice was small, but unafraid. The fact that he received a response at all was encouraging, though not totally unexpected. Ever since that night when he had been left alone with Jack during his nightmare the young boy had been less and less unnerved around him. He was talking more and was less likely to avert his eyes from Bobby's gaze, though he still insisted on locking himself in his room while Evelyn was out of the house. That would change, today._

_"Cause I wanna talk to you for a second, just open up."_

_"Why?"_

_He shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to let the irritation he was feeling seep into his voice._

_"Because I prefer to look at people when I talk to them."_

_"What do you want to talk about?"_

_"What is this, twenty questions? Just open the damn door Jack!"_

_He heard movement on the other side of the door, footsteps and the click of the lock before the knob began to turn, the door opened a few inches and he could see Jack's small eye staring back at him. He sighed, eyebrows raised._

_"You're kidding right?"_

_The eye disappeared and he pushed the door open enough to move into the room. Jack had repositioned himself on his small bed, staring at Bobby as he twisted the edge of his comforter between his fingers._

_"How can you stand it? Sitting in here everyday and doing nothing?"_

_Again he received no response, though he wasn't surprised this time. Silence filled the space between them._

_"Don't you get bored?"_

_Jack shook his head quickly, too quickly._

_"You're a shitty liar. Whatever, do you want to go play some hockey?"_

_Another quick shake._

_"Well, that sucks because you are. I'm sick of being stuck in here and you look like a damn ghost you're so white. Let's go."_

_He turned, heading towards the door, sure that Jack would heed his command. He was stopped by the weak protest._

_"But I don't want to go. And besides, I won't get tan outside anyway. It's winter."_

_"No shit Sherlock," he played the comment off. "You're still going."_

_"I don't have skates."_

_"You can wear Angel's old ones. Stop making excuses and get your coat."_

_He started for the door again, satisfied that Jack would follow from the exasperated sigh that came from behind his back. Heading for the closet, he grabbed his own well preserved blades off the hook before digging through the mess on the floor and pulling the overused black skates from the bottom of the pile._

_The car ride to the rink was relatively uneventful, Bobby kept a steady stream of lyrics flowing from the speakers, singing along to the lyrics he knew, causing Jack to stifle a small smile with the heel of his hand. _

_"I don't even know how to skate." He pouted as Bobby laced his own blades on the bench next to the rink, his own feet swinging under the weight of the worn skates._

_"I don't even know how to skate..." Bobby mocked the younger boy, giving him a sidelong glance. "It's not hard. Just like walking, except you're on ice."_

_"Well it sounds hard." He sighed heavily._

_"You are _such_ a girl." _

_Bobby stood, moving easily onto the ice._

_"Bobby wait!" his voice was panicked as he watched Bobby skate away, relieved when his calls caused the older man to turn effortlessly and return, albeit annoyed. Knowing Bobby wouldn't listen to any more pleas, he pushed himself into a standing position, arms straight out in an attempt to balance. Carefully, and very slowly, Jack took a step, wobbling a bit before taking another. Bobby sighed dramatically, this was going to be a long day, he could feel it._

_Jack lowered one blade onto the ice, reaching for Bobby's coat, hoping he wouldn't move away, thankful when he stayed though he didn't look at his face, knowing he was disappointed in Jack's lack of ability. His face flushed with embarrassment as Bobby caught him under the armpits as he brought his other boot onto the ice and swayed dangerously._

_"Shit Jack, what are you made of, Jello? Stand up." _

_"Bobby, I can't do this!" He could feel the prickling of panic induced tears behind his eyes, blinking furiously to keep them at bay, ashamed._

_Bobby couldn't put into words how thankful he was that they had the rink to themselves and nobody would see what he was about to do._

_"Jack, you're fine. Here, let's try this." Removing his hands from Jack's arms he quickly took the boy's small hands in his own, flashing him a reassuring grin. "Okay, now I'm going to skate backwards and pull you. Just keep your balance, you won't fall."_

_"Promise?"_

_He sighed again, rolling his eyes. _

_"I promise."_

_Bobby easily began moving himself backwards across the ice, slowly pulling a wobbling Jack along with him. A little ways across the rink Bobby picked up the pace just a bit._

_"See Jack, that's not so hard is it?"_

_Jack shook his head, a huge smile plastered to his face, beaming._

_"I told you!" he chuckled easily. "Wanna go faster?"_

_A nod and he picked up the pace even more, the two moving across the rink quickly. _

_"Jack, do you trust me?" he smiled as Jack nodded, only hesitating for a second. "Good."_

_Bobby eased his hands easily from Jack's, watching as a look of panic and betrayal crossed the boy's features. _

_"Bobby..."_

_"Hey, Jackie, you're skating."_

_"I'm gonna fall Bobby, please come back." his arms outstretched towards Bobby._

_"You're not going to fall."_

_And then he was falling. If he wasn't petrified, the wide-eyed look that crossed Bobby's face in connection with the sharp 'shit!' probably would have sent him into a fit of giggles, but as the arms he tried to catch himself with slipped away and his head came into contact with the solid ice, all he could think was that ice wasn't supposed to be red. _

_The strong grip on his shoulders surprises him, but the string of apologies and curses that follow let him know that it was Bobby who was flipping him onto his back, face pounding._

_"Oh shit. Ma is going to _kill _me!"_

_He could feel the cold ice drop away from him as Bobby lifts him, one arm around his shoulders, the other under his knees. It feels like they're flying as Bobby skates towards the end of the rink, Jack remaining silent, slippery hands trying to slow his gushing nose as Bobby cradled him, unafraid. Bobby's on the platform then, moving as fast as he can with the blades on. Jack feels his own blades touch solid ground again as Bobby sets him down, fishing in his pockets for coins to put in the pay-phone. _

_"Hey Jack, move your hands a second." He grimaces when Jack does. "Shit."_

_Looking at his blood covered hands, the sound of his voice surprises him._

_"It hurts."_

_"Yeah, I'll bet it does buddy. But I'm gonna talk to Ma and see what she..." he paused, listening. "Ma it's me, I have a problem."_

_Another pause._

_"No, see I took Jack to the rink..."_

_More silence. Bobby rolled his eyes._

_"I know Ma, but just listen a second, you can yell at me later."_

_Bobby shifted irritably._

_"Jack fell and his nose is shooting blood like a fucking geyser."_

_Jack felt bad, he didn't want Bobby to be in trouble because of him. Wasn't Bobby's fault he couldn't skate. Removing a hand from his face he tugged at Bobby's coat, repeating the action when his first attempt was ignored. Bobby finally turned to look at him._

_"Can I talk to her?"_

_Bobby sighed._

_"Hey Ma...Ma! Sorry but Jack wants to talk to you." _

_He handed the phone to Jack, who brought it to his own face with a bloodied hand._

_"Miss Evelyn?" he paused before continuing, voice small and nasally. "Please don't kill Bobby."_

_And Bobby laughed._

_-- -- --_

O.o

racquet.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **A huge THANK YOU goes out to **Maxiekat** for all her help on this one. She is the shiz!

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** Iz not mine.

-- -- --

His legs.

He couldn't feel them.

They were gone, like Jack.

Jack was gone.

He felt himself sinking, the security guards only half-attempting to hold him up in their confusion. The noises bled together like ink on wet paper, none of it making any sense. His knees met the hard tiles, spilled coffee seeping against his skin, the warmth of it unnoticed as the hands slid from his shoulders, and as if in slow motion he watched the doctors and nurses evacuating the small room. He could see the bed easily now, the shape of a face and a body outlined clearly by the thin cover sheet. And as he sat watching, sitting back on his knees, he could feel the enormity of the situation slowly sink in. His baby brother, innocent Jackie, the one he was supposed to protect, was gone. He felt...weird. Like the air was thinner or there wasn't enough of it. He ground his teeth together, fighting the stinging behind his eyes as he tried feverishly to pull enough air in through his nose to quell his aching lungs. As the crowd around him dwindled he could see the looks people were giving him as they passed and a smirk passed his lips as he thought about how odd he must look. Sitting in a puddle of coffee on the floor in handcuffs, breathing like a fish out of water. That was funny, right? But they didn't know, they couldn't know, about Jack. And still he wanted to kill them, because they didn't know.

He wanted to move, to get up. It seemed like a lot of work though, standing, and what would he do once he got up anyways? Go back to Detroit, hunt down Ma's killers, kill them. Then what? No, there was no rush. He could wait just a while longer. Oh, and they'd have to bury Jack.

There was someone next to him, talking. He could hear them, he just had no real interest in what they were saying. He doubted it mattered a whole lot. The hands were back again, they were gentler this time though, and they were doing something with his hands, taking off the cuffs. He brought them to his lap, rubbing at the familiar soreness in his wrists. Hands were back on him, touching his shoulder this time. Hell, if he wanted to be molested this much he would have gone to a strip club. The person beside him was crouching now, a hand on his arm, a voice saying his name. He turned, it was Dr. Phillips.

"You let my brother die." His voice was flat.

"No, Bobby I..."

"Don't you fucking lie to me." He could hear his voice getting lower, it sounded angry, he felt a little angry. He felt a lot angry. "You _killed_ my fucking brother!"

Standing didn't seem like such an insurmountable task anymore, so he did. Dr. Phillips followed. Bobby could read the guilt, the sadness in his eyes, he better be fucking sad. He wasn't nearly as sad as he was going to be once Bobby got done with him. He didn't wait for the man's response, though he could see the man was getting ready to plead his case again, Bobby didn't want to hear it. Stepping forward he stood only inches from the man as he pulled his hand back, ready to swing. It only took a second for the hands to find their way back to him, damn security guards. He pulled forward, away from their grasp and ended up with large arms wrapping themselves tightly around his waist.

"I swear to fucking God Phillips, you better fucking pray I don't..." His voice was menacing, the words grinding out through his teeth, veins in his neck were standing on end as he pulled towards the man in the white coat. The man who was advancing on him, returning the anger that Bobby was projecting.

"Bobby, hold on a second you asshole! That wasn't you're fucking brother!"

It took a moment for the words to register with Bobby. His anger was gone, replaced with hope, a hope he willed himself not to believe too much in.

"But...I saw..." He pointed half heartedly towards the door, the small room where the body lay.

"A man died in there...but it wasn't Jack." the doctor's voice was lowered, his anger gone. "Jack was stable this morning, doing very well. We moved him to another floor, he's fine."

He couldn't catch his breath again and couldn't help but think that this feeling was getting really fucking old. He leaned forward, bracing himself with his hands on his knees, the grip around his waist tightening.

"Can I see him?"

"I don't think so man, you're coming downstairs with us."

Bobby was _really_ fucking sick of these guys.

"Are you shitting me? I just found out my dead brother is alive and your _arresting me_!"

"After the shit you pulled, hell yes!"

"Wait a second guys," Dr. Phillips butted in. "How about I take him up to see his brother, and he'll stop by the front desk on the way out and let them know what an ass he was?"

Bobby scoffed, Phillips stared at him.

"Fine, but he'd better show up. We're reporting that he's in your custody."

"Okay, thanks guys."

And with that Dr. Phillips turned and walked away, Bobby following behind him, anxious to see his brother and prove to himself that Jack was, indeed, alive and safe.

-- -- --

The trip had been relatively silent, Bobby thanked Dr. Phillips and made as much of an apology as he could ever make to Dr. Phillips about his accusations and threats. And here he sat, for the last two hours, staring at Jack, watching his chest rise and fall in time with the beeping machines. A breathing, alive Jack. And he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Chris had joined him at some point, offering him coffee and refraining from asking about the stained condition of his jeans. They hadn't talked at all actually, a fact that didn't surprise Bobby after how he had left the apartment that morning. Which brought him to the answer to Chris' question, what had happened when Jack came home. Why Jack would probably throw a fit when he woke up and Bobby was here. Bobby knew he was in the wrong, he'd known it for a while. Knew that if the positions were reversed he would have beat Jack senseless, but Jack couldn't hurt Bobby, not physically and they both knew it. So Jack had left, cut him off, only came home when he knew Bobby wasn't going to be there. Avoided Ma's attempts on behalf of their relationship. They both had. But it was an accident, a damn stupid accident, and Bobby was too proud to back down, to proud to admit that he had made a mistake, that it was his fault.

"I fucked his girlfriend."

So much for that plan.

-- -- --

_She walked into the house like she owned the joint, confidence radiated off of her. The first thing he noticed about here, well, besides her great tits, was the way she carried herself, like a goddess. The second thing he noticed was the way Jack looked at her. Like she was the best invention since sliced bread, like a puppy following his master, like he'd do anything she asked him to. Hell, he look at her like she _was_ a goddess, right there, in the flesh. And he didn't like that. _

_The look on Jack's face, when he'd introduced them and Bobby had asked her whether she cared that he was gay, almost made him feel guilty. He'd looked like a kid who'd just found out Santa wasn't real. But when she'd shot back, __without missing a beat,__ that he didn't fuck like a fag, Jack's face lit up like she'd just recited Einstein's theory of relativity. And he didn't like that either. _

_He'd been lectured quite soon after that, when Ma pulled him aside and threatened him with everything under the sun, that he'd better not fuck this up for Jack. And he'd promised her he wouldn't. But he didn't like that either. _

_So at dinner he remained quiet while everyone else told jokes and embarrassing stories from when Jack was a kid, well...except for Jack, who spent the time staring at her, and he remained quiet when Ma asked him what was wrong, and he remained quiet when Jack stole a glance his way and the smile disappeared. And he didn't like that either._

_She stayed with them for a week, a week full of her striking confidence in everything that she did, a week full of Jack following her every time she moved, a week full of Bobby staying out of the house as much as possible, not wanting to misstep and be forced to face Ma angry. A week full of Angel and Jerry dropping by and beaming over the happy couple. A week full of pretending he approved. And he didn't like that either._

_So after a week, when he just couldn't take it anymore, he went out and got so shit-face drunk that he could barely stand and went home with some girl he didn't know and didn't really _want_ to know and he'd promised he'd pull out because she didn't have a condom, but he'd forgotten. And that's really all he needed was a baby. He didn't like that either._

_And he'd wondered home in a drunken, pissed off mood only to find Jack's goddess walking out of the kitchen and heading for the stairs. He'd grabbed her by the arm, too drunk to hold back his thoughts now as he pushed her up against the wall and threatened her with everything he could think, letting her know that if she hurt Jack in any way he would make her life a living hell, that they'd all be better off if she just left now. And she'd kissed him. And he kissed her back. And they went back to his room. And he was too drunk to care._

_Until he heard the door open. And the door close. And the feet on the stairs as he jumped out of bed, throwing the goddess off him, she was unimportant. Jack was important. He found Jack shoving clothes into a duffel bag by the front door, tried to stop him. And Jack had hit him, thrown a real punch and hit him, square in the jaw. And Bobby, being Bobby, hit him back, hard. They fought, or rather Bobby pummeled Jack until the goddess' screams woke up Angel and he'd drug Bobby off a bloody Jack. And then Jack left and didn't come back. And Bobby definitely did not like that either._

_-- -- --_

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that?" Chris was looking at Bobby now, Bobby's eyes remained on Jack but he could feel the anger coming like waves off of Chris.

"So they tell me."

"Seriously man, that's fucked up."

And they sat in a tense silence for a while, listening to the ticking of the clock and the beeping of the monitors until Chris made a confession of his own.

"I told Jack I wouldn't tell anybody this, but when he came back he was really fucked up. He, uh, tried to score some shit again, didn't have any contacts here though. Thought you should know."

And that certainly got Bobby's attention, the muscles in his jaw working as he contemplated the other man's words. He rocked forward, resting his face in his hands, foot bouncing noisily on the dull tiles. Raising his head with a quick "fuck" Bobby rose easily from the chair and strode for the door, a confused Chris watching him go.

"Where you going?"

"I need a smoke." The words came out like a growl.

"I didn't know you smoked."

"I don't."

-- -- --

R&R please.

racquet.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Sorry for the long time without updates. If this chapter isn't up to par I blame it on the suddent onset of writer's block. I didn't proofread this either, so all mistakes are due to my own laziness. We're about to hit the meat and 'taters of this fic in the next few chapters, so hold on to your hats everybody!

Aberration, Chapter 9...

* * *

Bobby moved quickly down the white hallway, stopping only to ask a custodian where the nearest payphone was before stopping in front of the beeping elevator doors. He jabbed at the already lit button impatiently, he didn't have all day. Moving aside as a pair of doctors rolled a gurney out of the opening doors he stared at the body bag on the gurney. Just like Jack. No. The man who had been in Jack's room. His breathe quickened as he slipped into the elevator as the gurney moved down the hallway.

Ignoring the woman who was calling for him to hold the elevator he thumbed the close door button and moved to lean against the metal railing in the back of the cube. He rested his head against the hard wall. It had been a long fucking day and he just wanted to go home. Back to Detroit and get his shit around and go. But he knew that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Even after Jack was able to go back to Detroit, he still had Ma's killers to hunt down. He sighed heavily, frustration growing in his chest. God, this shit just never ended. Leaning forward he shifted away from the wall, letting out a growl as he drove his fist into the side panel before turning again swiftly to drive his other fist into the door. The opening door.

He stood in the center of the small cubicle, staring at the small crowd waiting to board. Their wide eyes focused on him as they waited for him to make the first move with baited breathe. He took a step towards the door and they parted, a woman pulled her child against her. Out of his way. He shifted sideways to pass them and could hear the whispers as he strode away, once more collected, towards the payphone at the end of the hall.

He picked the receiver up, bracing it between his shoulder and ear as his hands searched his weathered jeans for coins. He dropped the silver coins into the slot, letting the lint fall to the floor as he dialed the familiar numbers, turning to brace his back against the wall as he listened to the intermediate buzzing of the phone.

"C'mon Jerry," he sighed into the phone, irritated. He didn't have all day.

The click came and Jerry was on the other line, "Hello?"

"Hey Jer, it's me..."

"Bobby?," Jerry's voice turned interested. "How's Jack?"

"Gee, I love you too man," Bobby said, sarcastically.

"Well maybe I'd be more interested if you'd call once in a while and let us know how our brother is doing," Jerry's voice sobered. "We're worried about him too you know."

A pause.

"He's doing better." Bobby shifted, fingering the coin return of the phone. "Still not awake but they moved him out of the ICU. He's stable."

_I thought he was dead._

"That's good, I guess. They know when he's gonna wake up?"

"I guess they're going to keep him under until his brain stops swelling, some shit like that." he moved closer to the wall, voice low. "Hey Jer, I was calling to see if you or Angel have started doing any digging about Ma. I assume the valiant boys in blue haven't turned anything up?"

"Nah man, not yet." he paused before continuing. "Listen Bobby, maybe this isn't such a great idea, getting messed up in this. Angel's heading back to base in a few days and with Jack and all...I just don't think it's a good idea right now."

Bobby had held his tongue through Jerry's words, though the tension was obvious in the tightening of his shoulders and the way he shifted from one foot to the other and back again.

"So what should we do Jerry? Huh? Just let the fucker who did this walk? Is that what we should do?" The words came out in a growl.

"Calm down Bobby. You know I want whoever did this as bad as you, I'm just trying to think about the possible ramifications of our actions..."

"Don't you give me that ramifications shit Jerry. You don't want to help? Fine. But I'm not stopping till the person who held that gun has a fucking bullet in his head, and you'd better stay the _fuck_ out of my way." He was inches from the phone box now, as if getting closer would drive his point home with the other man. "As soon as Jack's better I'm coming home and taking care of business, with or without you. I've already wasted enough time fucking around up here!"

He was breathing heavily, his face a shade of deep red.

"I can't talk to you right now Bobby, I have stuff to do."

He slammed the receiver viciously onto the metal chamber, the dial tone still ringing in his ear as he stalked back down the hallway. This time he was taking the stairs

-- -- --

"Are you shitting me? You've gotta be shitting me!"

"I assure you Mr. Mercer, I'm not _shitting_ you. You've done a pretty good job of _shitting _on yourself." the old woman behind the counter glared at Bobby. "Now will that be cash or credit?"

"This is Goddamn ridiculous. Five hundred dollars for...what the fuck am I paying for again?" he questioned, pulling the worn wallet from his back pocket.

The old woman looked wearily at the clipboard in front of her before replying.

"Well apparently you made quite the scene, resisting the security officers and, as punks like you say, _bitching out_ a nurse," she glanced at him over her thick glasses. "Got that, _Homie_?"

"You have no clue what the fuck you are talking about lady," he scoffed, both irritated and amused by her as he slid the card under through the opening in the glass. "Put it on that."

She took her time, thoroughly inspecting the card as if it were surely a fake, periodically throwing glances at Bobby before swiping it through the scanner. She stared at the card some more.

"Lady. Come on! It's not going to give you the secrets of life for Christ's sake. I have shit to do."

She peered over her glasses again. "Well, Mr. Mercer. It seems as though _your_ card does not have enough money on it. It was denied."

So there it was. He was fucked. They wouldn't let him back up on Jack's floor without paying the fine and he wasn't about to call Jerry and ask for the money. He snatched the card from the slot, forcing it back into the wallet.

"Yeah well, next time I'll try to steal from someone a little richer."

If possible her eyes narrowed even more, now just small slits on her wrinkled skin. He turned, heading for the nearest chair to contemplate his next move. There weren't many options. He didn't have the money. He needed the money to see Jack. The only person he knew that had the money was Jerry. He leaned forward rubbing his calloused hands over his face and sighing loudly. He was fucked.

He sat in the lobby for what seemed like forever, staring blankly at the Spanish soap operas that ran on the television until the voice from the other side of the room gained his attention. Chris. The younger man jogged across the crowded room, slowing to a stop in front of Bobby's chair, smile plastered on his face, not something Bobby was expecting after Bobby's confession last time they had talked.

"The fuck are you so happy about?" he questioned wearily, pressing the fingers of his right hand into the dull ache that was starting behind his eyes.

"They lowered Jack's meds some more," the younger man bounced on the balls of his feet, full of nervous excitement. "They're gonna wake him up."

Bobby let the hand fall from his face as he stared hard at Chris. The blank stare falling into a frown.

"Who authorized them to lower the medication?"

Chris stopped bouncing as he stared down at Bobby, his facial expression mirroring Bobby's.

"I did." his tone was serious, challenging.

"You can't fucking do that!" the words came out in a growl. "I'm his next of kin after Ma!"

"You _were_," the younger man crossed his arms defensively.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he could feel the rage climbing it's way up his stomach. This asshole wasn't related to Jack, Bobby was. What gave him the fucking _right_ to have control over what happened to Jack. This was bullshit. He leaned forward in his chair, getting ready to speak when Chris beat him to it.

"Listen Bobby, I'm not going to fight about this now. They're waking Jack up, and I plan on being there." he reached into his back pocket, unfolding the wallet he had pulled from it and throwing something to Bobby, who caught it gracelessly. "Phillips told me about the fine. Put it on that if you want to see Jack."

With that Chris turned and headed back towards the elevator with noticeably less bounce to his step than when he had come, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

-- -- --

Bobby slid into the doorway quietly, leaning against the frame as he observed the commotion going on around the iron hospital bed. Dr. Phillips's words were loud and slow as he leaned over the bed, only inches from Jack's face. Giving him instructions. A nurse stood back a few feet from the bed, ready to jump into action at the doctor's first order. Chris stood on the other side of the bed. A mix of concern and excitement across his face as he leaned over Jack to offer encouraging words.

Bobby watched as Jack's legs moved slightly under the heavy blankets that lay across him. Watched as his hand came up and started towards his head, towards the tube obstructing his airway.

"Jack, you have to relax, stop fighting the machine. Okay Jack?" the doctor's words were loud in Bobby's ears as they drowned out the hum of the other machines.

He watched as Chris took the roaming hand in his own, watched as he gave it a squeeze before gently pushing it back to the bed.

"Okay Jack, when I could to three I want you to take a deep breath and exhale. Okay Jack? Blink twice if you understand Jack."

Watched as Chris smiled at something Bobby couldn't see.

"Okay Jack, here we go..."

Chris shifted beside the bed.

"One..."

He licked his lips as though he would be the one drawing the breaths.

"Two..."

His fists were balled, clenching.

"Three!"

Everything seemed to move at once as Dr. Phillips drew the long tube out of Jack, bringing it over his head and into Bobby's view before handing it quickly to a nurse and demanding water. Leaning forward he pulled an instrument from his pocket and shone it towards Jack. Chris looked at him, smiled at something the doctor said. Bobby watched as Phillips pressed a button on the bed and it began to rise. Jack's face came slowly into view. Eyes closed, his face still covered in bruises, but it was Jack. His head rolled towards Chris and Bobby could see his right eye working to open, watched as Dr. Phillips held the cup out and Jack tiredly sucked the water through the straw. Watched as Jack settled into the pillow and closed his eyes again, tired from the minimal effort that drinking took. Watched as he opened them again.

Watched as they focused on him.

Watched as they narrowed and Jack's shallow breath hitched.

Watched as his parched lips parted.

Watched as he forced the near silent words through his raw neck.

"Get. Out."

* * *

Look at that Maxiekat, I woke him up _and_ he spoke. I should get double bonus points for that! :p

R&R if you wouldn't mind.

racquet.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

*hopes to sneak in without people noticing how long it's been since last update*

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **Not mine, la de la de la, etc. etc.

* * *

Bobby blanched at the words. He'd expected them, to some extent, but that didn't make them any easier to swallow. Dr. Phillips and Chris were both staring at him. A look of utter confusion spread across the doctor's face as he glanced at the other faces in room, out of the loop.

Jack's eyes closed as he sunk back into the bed, breathing hard. The short words and the tension in his muscles proved more than enough to exhaust him. Bobby listened to the clock tick above his head as he watched the other men tend to his brother, both casting fleeting glances his way as if to make sure he was still there. Dr. Phillips spoke low across the table, low enough that Bobby couldn't hear and Chris's sidelong glance validated his assumption.

"I'm right here and I'm not fucking stupid." His words came out as a growl. "I know you're talking about me."

The conversation stopped and Dr. Phillips turned his head to look towards the door, his movements tense. He stared at Bobby for a moment before turning back to Chris to continue exchanging words below Bobby's range. In actuality it was only a few seconds but for Bobby it seemed like hours had ticked by before Phillips stood and walked towards him, face set.

"Would you mind joining me outside Mr. Mercer," his voice was flat. "There's something I need to discuss with you."

He held the door ajar as Bobby stared him down, the doctor held his gaze as Bobby stalked through the door. Dr. Phillips shut the door quietly and Bobby wondered if that was something they were taught in med school, though he figured he'd pushed his luck enough with the doctor for one day.

"Listen Bobby, the hospital just got word earlier today that Jack's healthcare plan was denied. It's one of the reasons…"

"Whoa, wait a second! What do you mean it was denied?"

"Jack was covered on your mother's health care plan, correct?"

Bobby shrugged, he'd never really thought about it before.

"Well that was the information that we had received from a…" he shuffled through the files. "Jeremiah Mercer?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that's my, our, brother."

"Well according to the terms of your mother's plan that we received, she was the sole beneficiary. Jack wasn't covered."

Silence hung in the air as Bobby tried to wrap his head around what the doctor was saying.

"So what does this mean, exactly?"

"It means we can't cover any of the costs that were incurred during Jack's stay here."

Bobby could feel the anger rising again in the pit of his stomach, mixing with the sick feeling churning there.

"Why the fuck weren't we told about this earlier?"

"Because there was a bit of confusion in the validation process of the policy due to your mother's death, it took longer than expected to sort everything out. I'm sorry Bobby…"

"How much?"

The doctor's eyes were sympathetic as he held Bobby's gaze.

"$132,000"

The feeling was akin to being sucker punched in the gut, but unlike his usual fights this left him with nothing to punch, no-one to hurt. The figure was incomprehensible, over one hundred thousand dollars. That was fifty of his cars, that was dozens of plane tickets, that was a fucking _house_ and they'd just spent the last of their money burying Ma and paying off her debts. There was no way they could gather that kind of sum, not in twenty years, hell they couldn't get that in fifty years!

"Bobby, I think we need to talk about our options right now," Dr. Phillips stood against the door, his hands planted firmly on his hips, all business. "If there isn't some kind of down payment or collateral put down now, we're not going to be able to keep Jack here. It's against company policy. Now I'm not sure how much you'd have to put down to start but I could find out."

Bobby shook his head, a strained chuckle pushing through his throat and the doctor dropped off.

"We don't have anything to put up."

"Okay. We can transfer him to a cheaper hospital across town. It's not the most advanced practice, and you would have to contact them about financial issues, but I'm sure they've seen worse."

Bobby stepped in at the pause before Phillips could continue. "Look Doc, I don't think you're getting it. There isn't any money, none. Are there any options that _don't_ include us digging ourselves deeper into this hole? Jesus Christ! He's off that damn machine now, how long before he can go home?"

The sound of the door creaking caught their attention, breaking the short silence as Chris backed out Jack's room, quietly easing the door closed behind him.

"He's asleep." He assured Dr. Phillips, acknowledging Bobby with a curt nod. "You decide anything yet?"

"Yeah, I have. He's coming back to Detroit with me." His stare was pointed, daring Chris to step in and try to take control of Jack's future again. "Doc, how long until he can leave?"

The quick glance passed between the two other men didn't go unnoticed by Bobby but he allowed it to pass.

"Technically he can leave or be transferred at any time, however I strongly recommend he remain in some kind of facility for another few days at minimum. He's stable, but his injuries are still very real, as is the pain. A facility is going to be able to control that better than a home environment right now," Phillips paused, gauging Bobby's mood before continuing. "Under no circumstances would I recommend him getting on an airplane in the next week or two, at the least."

Bobby nodded, running a calloused hand across the stubble that lined his mouth, weighing what Phillips has just told him.

"What about a car? I could rent a car and drive him back."

"Any kind of travel is going to be hard on his system right now, especially for such a prolonged period of time as it would take to drive to Michigan. I think it would be a very unwise decision."

"So let me get this straight. He can't stay here, we can't transfer him, and he can't go home. I get that right?" He could feel the familiar tenseness in the pit of his stomach, a growing mix of anger and frustration.

"I want to take Jack home with me for a while, let him heal up there for a few weeks, then the two of you…"

Bobby turned to fully face Chris, their expressions of staunch resistance mirrored each other as the dam of brewing hostility broke under the pressure between them.

"I don't think so! No fucking way! He's not _your_ brother. _You_ don't get to make these decisions!"

"And you should be the one to make these decisions, asshole? After what you did to him, you fucker?" Chris laughed sardonically. "Not gonna happen."

And for the second time that day, Bobby threw a punch that wouldn't land. Instead, he found himself face down on the tile, again, a searing pain ripping through the arm twisted awkwardly behind his back. A sharp knee dug into the small of his back as he watched the sneakers of Dr. Phillips retreat behind Jack's door. Which left two possibilities, either the security guards were back, or Chris was the cause for his current discomfort. Growling he attempted to push himself off the floor with his free hand only to feel the pain renewed, the ligaments stretching painfully in his back.

"Apparently Jack never told you how I used to get the shit beat out of me we met, he taught me some self-defense moves which, I'm assuming, he got from you. They seem to work pretty good, thanks."

Chris's voice was even and self-assured, showing no signs of exertion as Bobby lay under him with, breathing labored.

"Get the fuck off me!" He squirmed, trying to roll away from the pain.

"Stop fighting it Bobby, you know you're not going to be able to get up until I let you. And you may be able to intimidate Jack with that macho bullshit, but it's sure as hell not going to work on me."

Bobby heard the quick patter of sneakers off to their right and listened as Chris assured the passers by that the two of them were just fine.

"Now, you're going to listen to what I have to say, without interruption. Okay?"

Bobby mumbled his cutting assurance with all the valor of a man who knows he lost, allowing his forehead sink forward, coming to rest on the cool hospital floor.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, well there was SUPPOSED to be Jack in this section, and the section was supposed to be about twice as long, but thanks to the persistent badgering of one **Maxiekat **, I'm going to just have to post this as is and make the next part a new chapter. Also thanks to Maxiekat for reading over it for me and finding my errors.

Now, redrover, where's mah keys?! *kicks vault*

Next chapter will have some more intense Bobby/Jack conversations.

And the next chapter will not take 3 months to write, promise. For all of you who are still here, thank you so much! You're all awesome!


End file.
